Tickle Fights
by Rosae-Sif
Summary: "The Signless is extremely, unbearably ticklish; and he can hardly stand light touches to his torso without flinching. The Grand Highblood is only too happy to take advantage of this." Prompt from Homestuckfluffcannons.


"The Signless is extremely, unbearably ticklish; and he can hardly stand light touches to his torso without flinching. The Grand Highblood is only too happy to take advantage of this."

Prompt from homestuckfluffcanons on tumblr.

A/N:

So I'm only up to act five in homestuck and what I know of these two comes from fan -made stuff, so please excuse an OOC behavior.

TW: Bondage, Gag (Cloth), Non-con tickling/cuddles and fluff.

It had begun as a mistake, it really, really had been nothing more than that, well, maybe a little curiosity too. The Grand Highblood was visiting the cell of one of his most recent captures to decide on whether he wanted to put his blood on the left side of the wall or the right, when he had mistakenly brushed up his hand up against the mutant's side.

For a second, he froze at the reaction he got, rather than some sort of fear or even rebellion, he heard what was unmistakably a muffled and suppressed giggle coming out from around the cloth that was serving as a gag.

As if it had a mind of it's own, his hand moved against the other troll's rib-cage just a little harder this time.

The reaction was instantaneous, once again a muffled giggle sounded from his prisoner, who was now clearly attempting to squirm away from the hand on his side while making muffled protests that The Grand Highblood could not understand.

In the back of his mind, the purple blooded troll could hear the protests of how he should be focusing on this troll's immeniate death, but he couldn't shake his fascination at the small noise. Once again he moved his handing along the other's side and once again he got the same result, just slightly louder.

A word in his defense as to his following actions, it had been a long time since he had slept and he wasn't in his right-mind. Or wrong-mind.

Two tugs from his strong arms was enough to pull the chains out of the wall and restrain the prisoner in his lap. Speaking of the prisoner, he had gone completely still and currently had his eyebrow raised in a highly perplexed and slightly fearful expression.

The Grand Highblood couldn't restrain his curiosity and resumed the movements only the other's side, yielding the desired result; a bout of muffled and borderline hysterical laughter. This time, there was no pause from the assault, rather it continued on through the laughter and violent squirming of the mutant blood.

At some point, the flimsy gag fell out to allow for the other's voice to be heard in full. Now that he wasn't muffled, the purple-blood could clearly hear his pleas for mercy, though they were hard to take seriously given the fact that they were being forced out around bustles of laughter. Speaking of the laughter, it was quite a pleasant thing to hear. It wasn't quite soft and it wasn't really that melodic as he had sometimes heard laughter should be, but it was overwhelming happy. It was rather rare that he heard something that was as nice on his ears as the screams of his victims.

This continued on for several more minutes before The Grand Highblood realized exactly what he was doing and decided to leave before anyone caught him doing it. And if he forgot to put the gag back in while he was replacing the chains, well that was nobody's business but his.

He really had no excuse for the second time. A lowblood had managed to escape from him not once but twice that day and he had been ready to cull anyone who dared approach him. With a twisted grin on his face, he made his way towards his prisoner with no thought in his mind but pain for the other. The other who appeared to be speaking, but the words were lost on him.

The Grand Highblood reached out a single clawed hand, fully prepared to rip his guts out, only to halt in it's tracks as a small giggle sounded at their touch.

All of the sudden his anger drained away, only to be replaced by a desire to hear that noise again. Once more, he tormented his victim with the moment of his hands and once more it brought him quite a bit of happiness.

As the tickling continued, the movements of his captive became far more violent as he roared with laughter and attempted to thrash his way out of the grasp of the tortuous claws. Again, the highblood lost himself in the tickling, all anger forgotten in favor of what had now become his new favorite activity.

Finally, the tickling ceased after quite a while. The Grand Highblood left immediately after so as to avoid having to contemplate his actions.

Yes, there wasn't much of an excuse for the second time, nor was there anything to be said for the third or fourth or really any of the times after that. Slowly the tickling sessions that he used to relieve his stress after a long day turned into bouts of tickling intermixed with some not quite mutual holding of one another. Which devolved even further to sometimes tickling not even being involved unless the highblood had been having a bad day, instead there was simple some that was similar to, but most certainly not cuddling.

And one particular incident where he fell asleep with the mutant still being held against him.

In his defense he had been really tired.

The two of them never really talked about it, well the other often rambled about various subjects that he didn't bother to listen to, but they never mentioned the fact that the high-blood had yet to harm the other beyond the occasional scratch or the fact that the signless hadn't attempted to kill him or escape those few chances he had gotten.

Slowly, little things changed, and then big things. The execution date somehow kept getting pushed off for some reason or another, and all of the sudden the cell had been moved for technical reasons. Reasons that were very good and completely justified the movement of the prisoner to a fully stocked room that was simply constantly kept locked.

The visits became longer and more frequent, often ending with him spending the night in the room with nothing else to secure his safety but a set of cuffs binding the prisoners hands behind his back. And if those nights involved him being curled up against the other, well the was only because the mutant produced an amazing amount of heat at all times.

Unlike what one might hear from anyone with a reputation for gossip, nothing ever really happened at these meetings beyond the tickling and the not-cuddling.

Despite that fact, The Grand Highblood seemed far happier than he really ever had been before.

He still killed to paint on his walls and he still ruled with an iron-fist, let it not be said that he had gone soft, but little things did change. In times when he would have flown off the handle, he kept calmer and didn't react in quite the same way he used to. His hunts for low-bloods were often kept shorter now, toned down to be just enough for him to add the next layer to his masterpiece.

And every now again, when it had been a really bad day, one could hear the sounds of pleading laughter just barely bleeding out from the wall outside their room.

A/N:

Sorry for the crappy ending but I couldn't find anything better.


End file.
